Miracle on Fleet Street: Rosie's Diary
by Ghost in Front of Me
Summary: A story of love and longing, hate and melancholy, all seen through the eyes of one little girl, Rosie. This is the diary, of her stay on Fleet Street. Sweenett//OC//One-shot//First-Person Perspective. Please R&R!


_A/N: Didn't expect this, didya?! :D Yes, as I am a strong Bellamort shipper, I am also a die-hard Sweenett fan. This was my first sweenett fic ever. I wrote it last year for a contest at dA and got first place. The rules were to write a fic placing yourself in the story, be it any perspective, and I made a few OC's and Voila! A fluffy diary from a sweet girl's point of view was born! :) I know, my syntax is not at its best, but I'd like to show you guys the difference between my writing then, and my writing now. :) Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think! Read and review and make my happy! :D_

_Cheers,_

_Felicia_

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**Miracle on Fleet Street: Rosie's Diary**

_February 13__th__, 1874_

Dear Journal,

Michael and I have been without shelter for many weeks now. I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I'm sure my brother's needs are the same. We're without family, without comfort, and without sunshine, which I greatly miss at this moment. The rain in London, England has been horrible and quite difficult for us to travel in. Michael is always coughing; it scares me. I find that his breathing is nearing a difficult stage for him. He is always bending down to cough out what seems to be dark muck and I do not like it, not one bit.

We've tried stealing from some food stands in larger market areas in the hopes their keepers don't notice, but I've already been hit with a broom for doing so, and had not Michael distracted the old man, I might have been in the hands of the coming police. We ran for our dear lives that day or yesterday really, before we left, to simply continue walking.

We've been in and out of shops, begging sellers for scraps like shameless dogs and we've failed many a time, to receive any food at all. Michael grows weaker as we travel barefooted through alleys, hoping to find a good meal. His face is thinning; he is no longer a sweet looking boy of eleven, whose brown hair matches mine. I assume I am in a similar condition. My hair, however long and pretty it was gliding in waves upon my back, is now greasy and brittle. Everything about us, screams "beggars", though we were never the type.

Before the unexplainable fire at our cherished manor, and before the flames engulfed our parents and our dear butler, Bernerd, we were loved and in good hands. Now we are helpless and far too young or inexperienced to fend for ourselves, out here on the cold streets of London.

I am thankful though; thankful I have you to write to. Michael thinks it silly I care so much to carry you everywhere, but had I left you in my room, on my dresser like I would when I slept, you might have been in ashes, and I would have nothing to do, sitting here, waiting for some sign of an end to the downpour. And thank God for Michael's keen eyesight; he's the reason we are currently under a sturdy, stone bridge and not soaked in water. Although we may have quarreled on occasion while home, out here, we're quite the opposite. He is a good companion, a good friend. He is a good brother.

How sweet….he smiles in his sleep.

_I_, however, cannot sleep. I can only stare out into the water and to the docks some yards ahead. Michael is not old enough to carry the burdens of responsibility. While he rests on my lap, I think of everything; my mind is a pit of endless motion. Never once have I stopped wondering whether or not we'll survive on our own like this. I'm always afraid we'll die of starvation in some alleyway, so unnoticed, others who pass us will only acknowledge our lifeless bodies as the dirty homeless trying to find shelter in the darkness, and we'll rot until they realize we're dead. I can't think of anything else but death. I feel dead. My mother and father are no more, and my brother beside me seems a fading creature himself. Who else will I have when he leaves me, in such a sick state already? I must try to get him well again, and if it means stealing from doctors and risking imprisonment, I'll do it. I need him, and I know he needs me.

Please forgive me for wetting your pages, Journal. I'm sorry, but I can't hold back my tears all the time (though I try my best not to let Michael see) and so I hope you are okay. But I must find a way to help us out of this mess. I hope the rain stops soon. I need to see the sun again.

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_February 13__th__, 1874_

_Later on_

Oh Journal! It is already looking up! The heavens have heard my calls!

The rain has stopped! It has stopped! And we are walking again! Michael looks better as well; I think the six hours of sleep have made him more able-bodied. But he still carries that dreadful cough with him.

Later today, we traveled down a strange road that led to a farther side of London where there was some noise on the street about a popular tonsorial parlour around town. As we ventured further towards the main square, we passed an abandoned manor of great size and fortune. The letter box on the side of the fence read "_J. Turpin"_, but it was obvious a Mr. Turpin was no longer there. The windows were boarded up on the second floor as well as the door on the first. I made sure Michael and I steered clear of the place; it looked a frightful sight.

A strange-looking lady in a straw hat and ragged clothing approached us as we walked. She kept crying for "Alms, alms" but we had no idea what she meant. She frightened me. We tried to avoid her for the rest of our travel; luckily, we did. I hope I don't end up like that one day. It is not pleasant.

It turns out, that the "well-known" tonsorial parlour so many adults were discussing was right in front of us, after some time of treading the cobblestone. The parlour was on the second floor of what seemed to be a very busy pie shop. The sign above read "_Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium"_. My mouth began to water; how I'd love a good meat pie right about now.

Michael thinks we should ask some passerby-ers about the owners of the Fleet Street residency. I told him not to bother. Someone owning a shaving shop and a bake house would not want the trouble of two homeless children. As weak as he was, however, his stubborn pull on my arm was strong. He knew I didn't approve but his curiosity got the better of him. Bless his willful heart.

In a matter of minutes, we were knocking on the door of the shop owned by a Mrs. Lovett, hoping for some acceptance. My palms were quite sweaty holding on to my brothers. The lump of my throat grew even larger when a small, perky woman came to the door rather promptly. She greeted us as the Mrs. Lovett who claimed the sign above the store. I was surprised; she was sweet, almost welcoming. She was completely different and unlike any of our other acquaintances. Her eyes were soft and she radiated joy. I could tell she wanted to be loved almost instantly, particularly by the way she offered us homage. She must have lost a son or someone quite close to it, perhaps lost a lover, or something more.

She let us in with open arms, immediately helping us change into cleaner clothes, a bath or two, and some of her own delicious pies. My stomach was dancing around in my body. It never loved food more! And they were such good pies too! I couldn't make out the ingredients, however. I might have eaten beef, maybe….pork? Whatever it was, it was delicious and exactly what I needed. Michael couldn't stop chattering about her cooking.

She sat next to us in her kitchen area on a stool and watched us eat, occasionally asking who we were. She pitied our story and offered us temporary stay in her house connected to her shop. Michael became immediately attached to her and was very excited to stay here. She loved his enthusiasm and encouraged him to smile. I did too.

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_February 14__th__, 1984_

Dear Journal,

What a terrible, terrible night! I was so grateful to Mrs. Lovett for giving us food and a room of her home, but I was completely disturbed by last night's event!

I was finally trying to rest my eyes after so many days without sleep, when a horrible noise came from outside the door. A Mr. Todd came steaming downstairs from outside of the shop from upstairs in his own shaving parlour. I snuck away from the bed I shared with my brother to peek out from behind our shut door at what seemed to be an argument between Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. I couldn't catch everything they said, but it so happens, that Mrs. Lovett had recently sent away this Toby fellow whom she adored wholly. She wanted his future secured, so she took it in her hands, to send him to a highly respectful preparatory school. Mr. Todd was tired of her nonsense of missing him and of her pitiful tears, so much so, that he shoved her into the counter in her kitchen. I grew worried, worried for her well-being.

Finally, when I saw Mrs. Lovett retaliate with her rolling pin, nearly whacking Mr. Todd upside the head, I ran out into the open and yelled at him to stop hurting her. There was shock and confusion written all over his face. He turned to Mrs. Lovett and asked her about my presence. Mrs. Lovett immediately explained the important details, quickly turning back to me and ushering me back into bed. But I refused. I did not want to leave her there where she was vulnerable to an attack. Mr. Todd was not pleased with any of her nonsense, and he took it upon himself to march right back out of her shop, back into his own, and without any word, despite Mrs. Lovett's attempts to soothe him with her warm gestures of affection, (he does not like back rubs).

He left, and I ran up and into her arms in a big embrace. As little of a time as I had known the poor woman, I loved her like a long lost mother, and I did not want this feeling to ever leave me. I thought she would reject my sudden act of affection but she welcomed it completely, even searching the hug for more, as if looking for her own comfort in mine. It occurred to me, at that moment, that this was the comfort Mrs. Lovett was looking for and from whom, was this man, her very own tenant, Mr. Todd.

Realization suddenly hit me hard. She was in love, but with Mr. Todd? Why she would be drawn to such a man, I have no idea, but she was. I'll bet my life on it!

In that moment, when she let go, and brushed back some of my hair from the worried look on my face, I told her that if she needed someone to assist her in anything she did, I would be the one for the job (Michael could tag along if he wanted to; it didn't really matter to me). She thanked me quietly, and put me back to sleep, kissing my cheek ever so lightly before she stepped out and into her own bedroom. Michael stirred slightly, but he never woke. I however, had yet to even think about sleeping because now there was an image of an abusive barber in my head. Damn my detailed memories!

I must go now. Michael and I are about to begin our first day of work at Mrs. Lovett's Pie Emporium! I'm rather excited about helping her serve about the day. I just hope Mr. Todd doesn't leave his shop today……I would probably not be able to work at all.

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_March 18__th__, 1874_

Hello Journal,

I hope you aren't worried that I have abandoned you. But I haven't, I swear. I have just been too tired from work to take the time and record my thoughts of my days, though I don't complain. Mrs. Lovett keeps Michael and I busy, busy, busy working about her shop all day, cleaning, serving, and the lot but it's worth it. We are well fed, better dressed, and well taken care of. I promise you that I won't stop writing; it just won't be as often as you'd like.

I finally talked to Mr. Todd today like I've wanted to since the night of their quarrel some time before. I snuck out to the stairs on the side of the building to go up into his shop and try to understand his being. He always isolates himself from everyone unless it is someone looking for a shave. I don't ever see them leave, however. They must stay and chat for quite some time till I look away and they possibly disappear, so there's no reason for him not to socialize with say just another customer, or sixteen-year old girl, right?

I entered his shop slowly and cautiously. I will admit that he scared me, but I wanted answers, and my interest won me over. He was standing over at the large window from where he could view half of Fleet Street from below. He did not say a word; he merely continued his emotionless starring. I asked him if everything was alright and he shrugged my questioning away with his broad shoulders. I would not let him shoo me away so easily.

I approached him from behind fairly quickly and tapped him persistently on the shoulder until he turned around to face me. His eyes were pitch-black. His hair matched, except for an oddly white streak running over the right side of his head. There was anger and frustration on his face I stopped talking, afraid he might use one of his barbering tools on me for disturbing his peaceful brooding and began to back away slowly and towards the door. Luckily and at that exact moment, a merry and chatty Mrs. Lovett came in, offering lunch made exclusively for Mr. Todd. I was shocked; he ignored us both. Not even Mrs. Lovett could pry his body from his stolid state.

I turned to leave, hoping Mrs. Lovett could try to get him to talk. I watched them through the window of the door of his shop. Mrs. Lovett left his lunch on a tray on his side table, close to a picture of what looked like a wife and child. She turned to face him and began explaining why he should end his brooding and move on. There was something about "leaving your past behind you" and "forgetting about your dead wife". She wanted him to move on. Move on from what? Had his wife died? His family taken from him? Was that why he never seemed pleasant a day in his life?

I understood her pleading. But he couldn't see that she was telling him to move on so that he could finally let her in. I couldn't believe the heart with which Mrs. Lovett displayed to him, how low her head was to the ground, how wet her eyes looked, how soft her expression, and yet, he did nothing to take notice. I was angered by this, angered because Mr. Todd was a stupid, stupid man and did not deserve any of her love at all, and yet she still fancied after him, time and time again. This wasn't the first time, Journal that she had tried to hint at her affections to him, something which both Michael and I almost instantly recognized. Yet no matter what rejection she received, she always persisted.

I want to tell her not to continue with her quest to win Mr. Todd's love. I want her to stop trying to find fire in a heart encased in ice, because I want her suffering to end. I'm too afraid to talk to her though. I'm scared she'll reject me or not like what I say and possibly feel insulted by my advice so much that she'll send Michael and me away. I don't want that to happen either. For now, I guess I'll have to just stay quite and out of the way until I can figure out some sort of plan to make sure she doesn't get hurt.

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_April 9__th__, 1874_

Dear god! I thought I lost you! I was so worried I might have misplaced you somewhere I could never think to find you! Good thing Mrs. Lovett found you under the bed of our room. I have gone far too long without writing! I'm so sorry. I'm a horrible person, I know.

Well it's hopeless; I've tried practically everything in my power to help Mrs. Lovett realize her happiness is lost but I've yet to be successful. I've tried introducing her to other men when we travel to shop. I've tried convincing her of her lost thoughts. I've tried even getting Mr. Todd into the picture so much so, that she would eventually realize he doesn't fit the frame, but it doesn't work! It never works! And I'm frustrated beyond belief. Especially concerning yesterday and what happened despite my intended plans.

I convinced Mr. Todd to come down from his shop and spend time eating and drinking with Michael, and to talk about future plans to mentor him in the art of being a barber. I was hoping that with him being there and ignoring Mrs. Lovett to converse with Michael, that she would see his presence even in her own shop does no good, but instead she marched over to the table they shared and began to congratulate my brother on his wishes of pursing work in the tonsorial field. Thankfully however, Mr. Todd made sure not to look at Mrs. Lovett while she spoke so at least some of my work was not wasted. That surely and quickly went down the drain when some few minutes later, after Mrs. Lovett and I began to work the dough to begin making the pies, she noticed Mr. Todd's glances in her direction. I saw them too, and they were not full of his usual colorless life, but of interest and wonder? Possibly? Intrigue held his gaze on her as she moved about the kitchen, her hands fast at work. I, of course followed but made sure to every so often peek at his stance. His eyes did not leave her sight one bit. Michael was confused as well; he was under the impression that Mr. Todd had no interest whatsoever in their foster mother. Apparently, we were wrong.

From the kitchen, I called to Michael to join us in our pie making, and all Mr. Todd did while we worked, was watch. His eyes traveled from all of us, back and forth, examining our movements, but not responding. I was so curious to know what he was thinking, I truly wish I did. It would make the stares he gave, easier to handle. But it was too uncomfortable for my brother and me, though not for Mrs. Lovett. She carried on gladly; almost excited at the fact he was giving her his undivided attention, and at such a strange time.

What was supposed to be a successful part of my plot, failed miserably, turning almost disaster! Now, instead of believing she could move on, Mrs. Lovett's sense of possibility came rushing back into her mind. What's worse, the whole blame can be put squarely on me; how shameful. Now, if Mrs. Lovett decides to pursue with her adoration, if she doesn't get what she wants, it's my fault. It's my fault she feels some sort of want now. My fault she and Mr. Todd began talking today after our work was finished. My fault her smiles were brighter, my fault she felt hope rising in her chest.

Oh Journal, what will I do? I don't think Mr. Todd can live without mourning his deceased wife and lost daughter, so what chance does Mrs. Lovett have with him? I don't think he will ever leave his past behind him. I don't see Mrs. Lovett ever fully receiving the care she deserves from that ghastly man….

Please send me some sort of sign as to what to do, something, anything!

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_April 11__th__, 1874_

Two days ago, was mother's birthday. I couldn't help to cry a little. I do miss her, I really do. And I don't ever want to put down Mrs. Lovett, but I do wish I had my mother. Although Mrs. Lovett is a wonderful, beautifully bright and caring human being, I cannot come to call her my mother as Michael so recently began to call her, because it doesn't feel right. I would think that somewhere up in heaven, mother would see us, and would feel betrayed, and I do not want that to happen. But I do love Mrs. Lovett; that I will not deny myself of admitting to you, for I do….just not as much as I love my birth mother.

Perhaps I am unwilling to let go of their passing, as Mr. Todd (or Sweeney as he prefers it), has been unable to do. Maybe it is an indication to the both of us. I do not know, but I will try. And if it means helping Mr. T let go himself, then I will use everything of my strength to help him break free.

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_April 13__th__, 1874_

Journal,

Oh do I have news for you, my friend! I just recently found out something very peculiar that might help me with my quest. Apparently, or at least according to…Mrs. Lovett, Mr. Todd was very, _very_, attached to his family. He was as much in love with his daughter as he was his wife because in his years before his jail sentence in Australia, he was a different man. My theory is, if I can get Mr. T jealous of the bond between Michael, myself, and our new….mother…I can possibly help to melt that stubborn icy heart of his. After all, what man doesn't love a nice family to share the holiday with? Especially since Easter time is right around the corner! It's brilliant! Michael thinks so as well. And he's rather eager on helping me (but I think he's eager about everything I offer to him, regardless).

This morning, I will travel to the market and use the pennies that I have been saving (courtesy of working for Mrs. Lovett) to buy some nice smelling perfume for our mother and hopefully, with enough left over, a beautiful necklace as well, to compliment her low neckline, something too obvious for Mr. T not to notice.

I will be back to write later, about more of what has happened. Until then, my friend!

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_April 14__th__, 1984_

Oh Journal it was a brilliant sight I tell you! I knew he would notice! I gave Mrs. Lovett the gifts last night, for which she was forever grateful, and she immediately put both the necklace and the perfume on before dinner. Little did I know, she invited Mr. T to share the table with us down in her shop, but he did not want to, so he merely sat in the corner on a stool, watching us, just far enough away to say he never ate near us, but close enough to please Mrs. Lovett.

Well, he had a hard time eating his meal, when there was a stunning mother of ours constantly up and about serving us our soup and water, her hair pulled up nicely, and that wonderful necklace, a serious eye catcher to Mr. Todd. She brushed passed him in her attempts to serve him his bowl and I could tell he smelled her new scent (lavender musk, of my personal picking). His eyes went wide with some new emotion I had not seen him cast before. It was odd, at first, for it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Little did I know, Journal, that Mrs. Lovett came back to us and sat with a bright smile, after Mr. T uncharacteristically complimented her on her new smell! Isn't that wonderful? She thanked me with soft brown eyes, and my smile could not be wider than it was then! She was truly excited about the little moment they shared, and I assume he was growing to be as well!

Half way through our eating, Michael turned to me and told me to look at Mr. Todd's direction because he had noticed something strange. Mr. T had a rather scornful look on his face, and his eyes were in our direction. I hadn't understood it at first, but I assumed that he wasn't happy with his position on the stool so far away from us, so I offered him my seat next to Mrs. Lovett and he obliged, sending her in an even larger exhilarated state, so much so, I was surprised Mr. T did not hear her heart beating out of her chest as Michael and I so easily heard!

While I watched from the background (I didn't mind, I was already done, and mother needed our help more than she needed me to sit next to her at dinner time), I saw his face shifting back and forth between Michael's and mine, curious as if it was any of our doing, that we got his attention finally on his tenant. I smirked at him, the little devil that I am and he caught it and….smiled maybe? I couldn't remember but I know that soon after, he was yet again gracing Mrs. Lovett with compliments about her necklace, and how it suits her character quite nicely. I was screaming inside, happily dancing about in the thicket of my mind, a chorus singing "Hallelujahs" in the distance.

I went to bed that night more pleased with myself than ever before. I was extremely happy about their little event, especially with the way Mrs. Lovett showed her highest level of gratitude towards Mr. Todd for his compliments. And he seemed to rather enjoy her company. After all, they are business partners supposedly; Mr. T knows a rather wonderful meat seller that he supplies Mrs. Lovett with daily (that's probably why their pies are so wonderful and they spend most of their earnings on ingredients and dough, and not on meat). It's only wise that they are on good terms and not on others where Mr. Todd acts like a complete nutter, leaving his partner in a non-stop tussle. Hopefully, it will grow into a better relationship than just partner. Oh Journal, I really hope so, now more than ever! I am some what fond of Mr. Todd, and maybe, he will grow to love us too!

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_May 23__rd__, 1874_

Dear Journal,

As time goes by, I feel less and less need to tell you of the events, and find myself wanting to just live them out instead. It is rather horrible of me, but can you blame a growing lady? I'm sorry, I am. And it has been far too long since I last wrote you, but I've been busy! Busy with helping Mrs. Lovett find love, busy with helping Mr. Todd take it, busy with work, with taking care of Michael, busy with life, really.

Today, after breakfast, Mr. Todd came down from his shop at a strange time of the morning to ask Mrs. Lovett with her assistance with something up in his shop. He was rather humble and shy, and I almost burst out laughing at his odd, unman-like behavior, but Mrs. Lovett gladly accepted his offer and went with him up into the barber shop. Being my devious self, I quietly followed behind.

I stayed outside, looking occasionally at them through the window. It was so sweet! Mr. T had bashfully asked Mrs. Lovett to help him with removing of the old, broken mirror near the dresser of his shop. Together, they began to carry it towards the door when I immediately ducked out of sight's way, until I heard a crash; some of the glass fell from the mirror. I looked up, and Mrs. Lovett was already apologizing at rapid speed, quickly falling to her knees to clean the mess she claimed was her fault. Mr. T told her it was "alright" and he even placed the mirror to the side and began helping her himself. But by beautiful accident, their hands went for the same glass, meeting in the middle and caressing each others ever so slightly till they both pulled back with speed! Mr. Todd immediately looked at Mrs. Lovett but said nothing. She began her "sorrys" again, trying not to look at him in the eyes, but she failed when as they both rose together (unintentionally at that), their shoulders brushed together in their upward movements, and their lips, mere inches apart! I was far too anxious for my own liking! Mr. T did not waver with his gaze from hers for quite some time! For them, it must have felt awkward in such silence in his room, but I was practically on edge waiting in the brisk weather outside! It seemed as if Mrs. Lovett was trying to lean towards him further, but the silence was too much, so much so, they hadn't realized that part of Mrs. Lovett's hand was pierced by a shard of glass. She was bleeding, and just as she was about to leave to go possibly take care of it in her own shop, Mr. Todd offered up his rag, pulling out the shard and using it to carefully wrap her hand so as to stop the wound.

I swear I thought I saw Mrs. Lovett swell with tears as she was tended to, possibly because in the almost twenty-five years that she has known her dear Mr. Todd, this was the greatest sign of kindness she has ever received, from anyone. To be cared for by Sweeney, was the only thing she could ever ask of anyone, and although he didn't realize, what he was doing meant the world to her.

She thanked him silently and they both went back to lifting and carrying the mirror in some awkward quietness.

I hurriedly ran down the stairs and back by Michael and the chairs we were sharing. My heart was beating so fast, I could have sworn they knew I was there watching. Lucky, they hadn't caught on, and Mrs. Lovett carried about the rest of the day humming and singing silly little tunes to herself, her smile never leaving her face.

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_June 12__th__, 1874_

Nothing much has changed in the past few weeks. Things are the same, so is work.

I could have sworn I caught Mr. T winking in Mrs. Lovett's direction yesterday but she couldn't see it, so I was rather upset. However, I think Mr. Todd is starting to warm up to the three of us, or at least, that's what it seems he does with his every effort to try and sit with us at dinner time.

I shall write more when a better time calls for it. Till then, my dear!

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_August 1__st__, 1874_

Today, Michael and I surprised Mrs. Lovett with a beautiful trip to the English Channel and to a beautiful coast, away from the usual boredom and gloom of Fleet Street. She was pleased with our efforts and even managed to tag along, playing with Michael in the sand, while I walked along the shore to pick up sea shells.

After a few hours of fun, Michael finally went into the water and Mrs. Lovett and I were left to soak in the warmth of the sun together on our blanket. I wanted to ask her about her and Mr. T, so I did. I wanted to know about his past, why he is the way he is, and why he has such a hard time admitting feelings to anyone but himself. Within the hour, I managed to get the entire back story to their relationship, everything from his first meeting and his humble approach to Mrs. Lovett and her currently deceased husband to ask to rent the second floor of their shop, to the day she cried her final tears as she watched him be taken to Australia (the realization that she loved him, first hitting her hard), to his wife, too depressed she attempted to kill herself, to the day he returned, and she gave him life, returning his razors and fulfilling him with purpose again.

I could tell she did not like talking about it. She seemed sad as she spoke, but we were both ladies and capable of sharing sisterly bonds or in this case, mother-to-daughter ones, so I made every attempt to comfort her, like a friend, like a daughter. She has been through so much for this one man and I will never understand why. But she told me, the truth of the matter was, "love is a hard thing." A hard thing, indeed.

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_October 27__th__, 1874_

Journal,

Cold weather is approaching quickly again as Michael and I prepare ourselves for the winter. Mrs. Lovett's shop is flourishing, as is Mr. Todd's. We are happy and well, for the most part, which is all I can really ask for, honestly.

Mr. Todd has made a friend, a mister Charles Brandeau, who has invited him to his masquerade banquet on All Hollow's Eve. This Mr. Brandeau is quite the rich man supposedly, and Mr. Todd has even made an effort to buy a new tuxedo. Today, however, he approached Mrs. Lovett while she was working about the kitchen, and asked her if she would accompany him to the party, as his companion. Mrs. Lovett's face lit up, and I was very shocked at Mr. Todd for asking to begin with! But I saw Michael come down from his shop earlier on in the day and assumed that he had convinced him not to go alone, so he must have thought to ask Mrs. Lovett first (which means he does somewhat acknowledge her!).

I cannot wait till her and I go shopping in town tomorrow! I shall help her pick the best possible dress to capture Mr. Todd's every last word! Oh, Journal, I cannot wait, I tell you!

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_October 31__st__, 1874_

I am absolutely, one-hundred percent positive Mr. Todd's breath will be fully taken by Mrs. Lovett's attire. Unlike her usual working skirts and corsets, her dress is that of completely different nature. It is a deep scarlet, laced with black and silver silk and held together by a gloriously intricate black corset, covered by a beautiful layer of silver swirls and black ribbon. I helped her with her hair tonight as well, making sure it was in a wonderful bun atop her head, pinned together in certain areas where her curls can fall gently and gracefully around her face and back. I helped her place her diamond pin on the side of her face, the qualities of the butterfly shape truly complimenting her every element, and even managed to convince her to wear the sliver-encrusted necklace I bought her, once again applying the lavender perfume, as if convinced it makes miracles.

She was a wonder to be held. Her makeup was perfect, her eyes, stunning, her lips, full and wanting attention, and her breasts (of course), ample and flaunted, exactly how she would have wanted them to be. I am completely convinced; if Mr. T does not fall for my lovely new mother tonight, I am obligated to legally call him, insane. Mrs. Lovett has promised to share me any news, tomorrow after their return. For now, I will wait, watching over Michael, as she takes her black-feathered mask in hand, and glides out the door and into a carriage, before greeting Mr. Todd with splendor.

_October 31__st__, 1874_

_After Midnight_

Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd have yet to come home from the party. I think it is going well! It must be past two by now, for Michael is sound asleep on the couch, too tired to stay awake with me and wait for their return. I'm more nervous than ever, hoping that their night out, will be more than just night out.

I could picture him kissing her at Midnight, in front of a large grandfather clock under moonlight, at Mr. Brandeau's manor, while all others continue their festivities indoors. I could also picture an unhappy Mrs. Lovett, sharing a table by herself, while Mr. Todd chats away with his new acquaintances and friends. I don't know what to expect tonight when they walk in. I can only hope that it is of good nature….

There's noise at the door; they must be back….

Sometime later, I went to the window and saw a carriage pull up on the side of the street. Mr. Todd came out first, offering his hand to Mrs. Lovett (like a gentleman!), and the carriage took off.

I heard talk about a wonderful evening and was quite pleased of Mrs. Lovett's happy expressions. I was anxious to see if Mr. Todd would try to make any sort of move of affection on her, but they just stood quietly, awkwardly, as if waiting for the other to begin talking again. Sweeney finally turned to her and wished her a good night. Then quite wonderfully to both mine and Mrs. Lovett's surprise, he took her hand in his and raised it to his mouth to kiss! Mrs. Lovett nearly fainted on the spot, I tell you! And I was extremely overjoyed about the matter! Who wouldn't be?

To add to the even more romantic setting, full moon and all, Mrs. Lovett dared to peck his cheek with a kiss, and too my surprise, Sweeney did not back away! He let her kiss him, in all her fear that she might upset him and be rejected, he did. I smiled, and I sighed happily, happy to see there gestures were warming with each one of their intimate meetings. She turned to leave him after bidding her own farewell and he climbed up his stairs, eyes always turning back to look down upon the baker who mesmerized him so.

I couldn't help myself; when Mrs. Lovett opened the door to enter her home, I ran into her arms and told her how happy I was! I couldn't believe his actions, and she was just as overjoyed, as I was, almost like a young school girl and her first crush, it was too sweet. She held me for a while, and thanked me for my help. She told me Mr. Todd absolutely loved her outfit and her dress tonight, so much, he never left her side as they walked and socialized in different groups at the party. He even managed to steal a dance with her before the night was over, leaving her in an absolutely incredible state of bliss. She said the night could not have been more perfect unless he married her on the stop (something that would come with time, I hope). I kissed her on her cheek, and said good night, hurriedly running to my room to sleep, and to dream, of weddings and church bells, and white doves in love.

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_November 25__th__, 1874_

Exactly one month till the holidays, Journal! I'm rather excited! I've already begun my Christmas shopping, trying to find exactly the right gifts for the people of my new, odd-sort of, family. I found a wonderful tie for Mr. Todd, made of fine black satin, something I know he will appreciate having. I'm considering buying Michael a new spinning top, something I know he'll love to have again, like he had at our old house.

But I don't know what to get Mrs. Lovett. I asked her what she liked, and she told me not to bother for her at Christmas because she has all she needs already. I love her; I do, with all my heart. Michael and I have been such nuisances to her these last few months she's given us a home, and I'm so grateful for everything. I would have never dreamed of a better woman to watch over us after such disaster, but I love her! I love her like I would my own dear mother (bless her soul). I cannot just get her nothing this year, I must!

I hope Mr. Todd remembers; it still must be hard for him. If he's not eating dinner with us, he is upstairs brooding away at his window. I have a feeling things will change. Maybe….

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_December 16__th__, 1874_

Today I heard crying coming from Mrs. Lovett's room after a fight she had with Mr. Todd. He threatened her about his family and told her we could never compare. I heard some of it, but Michael says that the rest is unbearable, and wouldn't tell me anything to spare me from the hurt. But I was already hurt, because Mrs. Lovett was not alright.

When I saw her, I wanted to cry myself; her hair was a mess, her makeup was bleeding down her cheeks, and her eyes were swollen and puffy, a pitiful sight. I hugged her, and told her it would be alright, but she kept crying. Mr. Todd must have done something horrible or hit her, but there were no apparent marks or bruises on her body, so then what was it?

I asked her what was the matter, and she told me she had gone too far, she thought she could finally make him love her, especially after such a wonderful night on Halloween, but she thought wrong. She said it was her fault she was caught in his rage, her fault he threatened her with his razors. She was crying more now, and I could feel her sobs becoming hysterical. Dare I say it, Mr. Todd was right; this woman was a Bloody Wonder. His fury, his anger, his actions, she blamed herself, and she still cared for him. It's true what they say, that our love is our ultimate downfall. But Mrs. Lovett is falling endlessly, and without reason…

Journal, I didn't know what to do to help her. I tried hugging her, comforting her with soothing words, but I guess she would have to cry it out, and all I could do was be there for her, in the hopes she will stop.

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_December 16__th__, 1874_

_Later On, Nighttime_

Mrs. Lovett is currently sleeping in her bed. It was nearly an hour before she fell asleep after her crying. I feel quite awful about the whole ordeal. It's so sad…

Mr. Todd was waiting outside her door after I left her room to leave her be. I was surprised to see him, but not shaken. He didn't scare me, I knew better. I assumed he would begin yelling at me, but to my astonishment, he asked me if Mrs. Lovett was alright. I couldn't speak. He asked me again. I told him she was fine, and made sure he heard me say she didn't need his company. I was shocked that he looked taken aback at my final statement. But I didn't continue. I left his sight, and went to my own room, where Michael was eagerly awaiting my news.

As I was about to open my door, I heard Mrs. Lovett's creek open. I went back to check on her and saw Mr. T opening her door. I did nothing but watch. He was very quiet himself, making sure not to wake her. The door moved open by its own accord, and I saw him walking towards her sleeping form on the bed. He stopped to look down at her and stood there for some time, until I heard him mutter, "Nellie, my dear little baker". He stroked her check lightly, and she stirred slightly, but did not awaken. It was then that he left and I traveled on silent air back to my room and back to Michael to tell him what happened.

Michael was so confused with everything; he didn't know what to think! As was I. Why would he lash out on her to begin with, if he would later see her under the cover of night, a completely different man? And why would he not show Mrs. Lovett his affection while she was awake? It didn't make any sense, not one bit.

Christmas is around the corner, and still Mrs. Lovett is not happy. Michael and I need to fix this situation soon or it will be a holiday to dread.

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_December 18__th__, 1874_

I confronted Mr. Todd about his actions. A useless attempt. He didn't want to speak to me. But I persisted, until I got chased down the stairs outside of his shop with a shiny metal shaving tool….Very bad idea.

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_December 25__th__, 1874_

It's Christmas! It should be happy times! But the weather is gloomy, outside and inside of Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium. She has closed for the day, and Michael and I awoke to yelling and cheering about presents! She greeted us with "Happy Holidays" and warm kisses in our bed and I was surprised to see even Mr. T in a better mood. Mrs. Lovett had convinced him to wear his very own holiday hat (I couldn't help but laugh – not aloud of course).

I gave Mrs. Lovett a card and a beautiful rose, one hard to find in such harsh weather, and she thanked me with all her heart. Michael gave her his own flower, a Daisy, both of which would compliment her kitchen nicely, of both of which she loved wholly.

She gave us our gifts. Michael got a wonderful wooden train that he played with the rest of the evening, and Mrs. Lovett gave me one of her very own cherished silver rings. I felt too honored to speak. It was beautiful; ancient, but sentimental. I told her I would carry it with me every where. She smiled.

Mr. Todd just stayed quite in the background, watching us exchange gifts with one another.

Michael loved my gift of the spinning top and hugged me for the wonderful thought. I thought he would not get me anything, but he did manage a pretty little pin, shaped like a rose, and melded by silver. It must have cost him some money, and I was mad at him for not taking it to good use, but I was grateful nonetheless.

Finally it was time for me to give my gift to Mr. T. Warily, but proudly, I approached him, Mrs. Lovett watching my steps with interest. I handed my box to him, wishing him a Merry Christmas and quietly, so only he could hear, whispered "I suggest you give Mrs. Lovett your gift soon." He understood what I meant. The look upon his face said it all. It was all too obvious how he felt; try as he may to hide it. Michael and I knew for the last few days there was no better day to do it than today; I just hoped he would follow through with it.

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_December 25__th__, 1874_

_Evening_

Journal I knew it I tell you! I knew it I knew it! He kissed her! Oh he kissed her and then he took her in his arms and kissed her again! And she was crying, but they were kissing! So all was well! It happened rather interestingly, but it _did_ indeed happen, so I shall not complain!

Mrs. Lovett had been cleaning up after dinner, after our gift exchanging of the morning hours, and after Michael and I began busying ourselves with baking a pie for dessert. After she left the kitchen, and Mr. Todd went back to his parlour, I followed her once again as she treaded the stairs to his shop.

She was in the middle of apologizing for not getting Sweeney a gift, when in an instant, he took her face against his, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. At first, Mrs. Lovett was taken aback, but she was relieved, until Mr. T finally addressed her apology by looking up into her eyes and telling her that she was all he needed. She was all he ever needed! It might have taken him ten years since his return to her shop, ten years since he finally avenged his wife's death by destroying a Judge Turpin, ten years since he watched his grown daughter run off in love with a sailor and out of harms way, but if ten years was what it took, then ten years is sacred to us all.

I saw him wipe away the tears on her face with his sleeve after their romantic moment in secrecy, and I let them be, no longer worried about intruding on their privacy.

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_Hello Journal, it has been a while has it not? Almost five years since I've felt the need to talk to you, but I've been happy. Michael and I, have been happy. I hope to eventually reread all my entries that have made up the pages of my dear book, and I wish to eventually pass you down to my children when they are ready to begin to tell of their own journeys in life. No matter what, I shall forever hold you dear to my heart, as I do, now and forever, a Mrs. Nellie Lovett, and her husband, Mr. Sweeney Todd._

_My Best Wishes,_

_Rosie_

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_A/N: Didn't expect all that fluff now did ya? :D lol, I told ya it's something different. I just hope you like it :) Once I get back on track with ItSoEN, I'll be writing more Sweenett, if you guys want ;)._

_Please Read and Review! And Enjoy!_

_Felicia_


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